


Alternative Therapy

by theimprobable1



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 06:51:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimprobable1/pseuds/theimprobable1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of The Hounds of Baskerville, Henry Knight tries to rebuild his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternative Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to chess-ka for beta services.

_"There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face." (Bern Williams)_

***

Henry knew he shouldn’t have gone near the park. Obviously there were going to be dogs in a park. He hadn’t meant to go there, but it had looked so peaceful and absolutely deserted in the pale early morning, so he thought he could give it a try.

Of course, barely two minutes later a man and a large dog came out of a curve mere yards in front him. The dog wasn’t on a lead. Henry felt his blood go cold. He couldn’t walk away; there was no way he could turn his back to the dog – how would he know if it started running after him? He had to walk past them. He had to. The dog was a retriever, Henry thought, one of those popular breeds that people kept because of their friendly nature. It wouldn’t hurt him. It was trotting peacefully beside its owner. It wasn’t even that large. Henry could do it. He could walk past them like a normal person. Anything else would be weak and cowardly and he wasn’t going to do it. He just mustn’t be afraid. Dogs could sense it when you were afraid. He mustn’t. He—

The dog was walking faster now. It was—oh God, it was coming towards Henry. It was waggling its tail excitedly and Henry knew it wasn’t going to do anything to him (probably. Hopefully.), but he couldn’t move and there was mist curling at the edges of his vision and he could feel the dog’s breath on his hand and the cold brush of the wet tip of its muzzle and he couldn’t _move—_

“Don’t worry,” said the dog’s owner, his voice impossibly loud in Henry’s ears, “he doesn’t bite.” 

Henry forced himself to look at the man, to pull himself out of the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him.

“Are you all right?” the man asked, and Henry finally focused on him enough to see he was slightly tilted to one side, and then noticed it was because he was holding the dog by its collar to keep it away from Henry, even though the dog was standing still and didn’t look like it was going to lunge at anyone.

Henry just nodded, since talking still seemed impossible, and tried to get his breathing under control.

“You sure? You’re a bit pale,” the man said. He actually looked concerned. What was Henry doing, holding up kind-hearted dog walkers with his inability to function like a normal human being? What must the man think of him?

Henry nodded again, flooded by embarrassment.

“Sorry,” he managed, and he forced his legs to move. He took the shortest way out of the park and walked without stopping until he reached an empty street and leaned against a wall, willing himself to calm down. Nothing so bad had happened, he told himself. He just made a fool of himself in front of a stranger, someone he was never going to see again. Nothing new there. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time either. He should just get used to it. It made no difference to anybody whether he was pathetic or not. It didn’t matter.

When he stopped feeling shaky he walked home. He had moved out of his large house in Grimpen and settled in a small house in a small town on the edge of Dartmoor where nobody knew him, hoping it would be easier that way to leave the past behind. He had got a part-time job in a bookshop and a kitten to keep him company, and tried to put up a semblance of normality. He didn’t like his new therapist as much as he had liked Dr Mortimer, but he couldn’t keep seeking help from someone he’d managed not to kill only by chance. Dr Suarez was patient and efficient, and Henry thought he was getting better, if slowly. He’d been hoping to maybe make some friends, which hadn’t worked out so far, but he’d only been here for two months, so he thought he might still have a chance. Maybe. He was as all right as he could hope to be, really. He just had to keep trying.

When he got home Oscar the kitten came to rub against Henry’s legs and purred happily when Henry scooped him up, which lifted Henry’s mood a little. At least cats didn’t mind having ridiculous owners.

***  
Two days later Henry took Oscar for vaccinations, and of course it turned out that the vet was the man with the golden retriever, which was just Henry’s luck. He felt himself go red to the tips of his ears, and James Langley’s eyebrows twitched in recognition, but he didn’t mention the day in the park. He shook Henry’s hand and smiled. Henry wondered if it was a patronising smile, _oh look, that’s the crazy guy who’s afraid of perfectly harmless dogs, must be gentle with him or he might have a nervous breakdown._ It didn’t seem that way, though. It was very nice smile, too, which really wasn’t something Henry should be noticing.

Unfortunately, Henry also couldn’t help noticing that James had broad shoulders and strong but gentle hands and kind eyes and a lovely voice. He was about Henry’s height and probably about six or seven years older and he seemed trustworthy and caring and it was really not good. Henry had no business being attracted to people. It was just stupid.

Still, as he drove home he couldn’t stop himself from looking forward to Oscar’s next round of vaccinations, which was really horrible of him because Oscar had hated it. It was also silly, since someone like James would never be interested in Henry and that was for the best because Henry shouldn’t even be thinking about relationships until he got himself sorted out. There was no reason why anyone should be made to deal with Henry’s fear of dogs and panic attacks and nightmares. When he got rid of all that he could maybe try to meet someone, but not now.

The next day, however, Henry decided it couldn’t do any harm to go for a walk near the surgery. Just an innocuous walk. And if he happened to run into James, well, that would be just a coincidence. He didn’t, though, and that made him more disappointed than he had any reason to be. And then, because clearly he had more mental problems than any of his therapists had ever discovered, he tried again a few days later. He promised himself it was the last time, otherwise it would just be creepy.

It was definitely the last time, because just as he turned the corner into James’ street, he saw him walking out of the front door of the surgery, and he realised what a horrible idea this was. Hurriedly, he retreated back behind the corner, and then decided to hide in a café across the street just in case James walked in that direction. What had he been thinking? What was he planning to say if he actually met James? How would he explain his presence? What would he do? It was the worst idea he’d ever had. Just thinking about it made him feel embarrassed and mildly nauseous.

The café was a bit too crowded for his liking, but he couldn’t risk walking out now, so he ordered a coffee, found a table in a corner and set about contemplating his utter foolishness. 

That was the moment when James Langley walked inside.

Henry bowed his head so quickly he almost broke his neck, and stared at his cappuccino. What was he going to do now? Chances were James wouldn’t notice him, but what if he did? What if he talked to him? That was unlikely, though. He’d probably just say hello and that would be it. And Henry was just having a cup of coffee, it wouldn’t matter if James saw him. It wasn’t embarrassing to be seen having coffee. It wasn’t.

Henry finally dared to lift his head to see if James had gone to sit somewhere out of Henry’s sight, possibly at the other end of the country, and he found himself looking straight at him. James smiled, as if he was genuinely happy to see Henry. 

“Hello,” he said. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course,” Henry said immediately. “I mean, no, of course I don’t mind.” 

James set his sandwich and tea on the table and sat down opposite Henry, who was trying to remember how to breathe.

“This place seems to be crowded at any time of the day,” James remarked. “The food isn’t even that good.”

“You come here often?” Henry asked, and then wanted to die. Had he really just accidentally used the world’s most clichéd chat up line? As if he hadn’t already made a terrible first impression.

“It’s the closest place,” James shrugged, like Henry wasn’t a complete idiot. “I only moved here a couple of weeks ago, and I haven’t had time to explore the eateries yet. Do you know anywhere good?”

“I’m new here too, actually,” Henry said, because it seemed better than to admit that he never ate out, and also because it made him ridiculously excited that they had something in common. “Not even two months.”

“Oh? Where are you from, then?”

“Not far, just a little village in the moors. Grimpen.”

“Isn’t that near the army base? Baskerville?”

Henry nodded, averting his gaze and taking a sip of his coffee to hide his sudden discomfort.

“I read about it just the other day, it—” James stopped suddenly, and he looked at Henry with a slightly horrified expression. “ _Oh._ I knew your name sounded familiar.”

Henry felt suddenly sick. Did this have to follow him everywhere? He was tired of people looking at him with a mixture of pity and apprehension. He didn’t want to be asked questions. He should just leave. James probably never really wanted to talk him anyway.

“I’m sorry if my dog scared you the other day,” James said softly. “He’s just a bit overly friendly.”

“It’s fine,” Henry mumbled. He didn’t want to talk about any of this, to James or anyone else.

Evidently it wasn’t a topic James was comfortable with either, or maybe he noticed Henry’s reluctance. He was silent for a moment and then changed the topic abruptly.

“So, how’s Oscar?” he asked. Henry could detect a tense note in his voice.

“Good, thanks,” Henry said automatically, and then he thought he should say something more, to try to dispel the sudden chill. “He was a bit irritable for a while afterwards but he’s fine now. I don’t think your office will be his favourite place in the world, though.”

“No, probably not,” James chuckled, and Henry felt himself relax a little. “It’s a shame. He’s a cute little guy, I’d like to be in his good books.”

“That’s easy, just give him something he can chew on, that’s all he cares about. But I suppose you’re more of a dog person?” 

“To be honest, I’m sort of an everything person. My friends like to joke my dream is to have a zoo instead of a living room.”

Henry learned that apart from the dog (whose name was Lancelot), James also had goldfish, a snake and a parrot. They chatted about their pets for a while, and it was surprisingly easy. It was James who did most of the talking, but he didn’t seem to mind, and Henry liked listening to him more than was probably healthy. The conversation naturally progressed to their jobs and the last books they’d read and finally returned back to restaurants.

“You’ve been here longer than me, though,” James said. “You must already know some place you can recommend.”

“Um… there’s a nice Greek place near the train station,” Henry said and hoped that he wasn’t lying. He’d only got take-away there once and barely noticed what the restaurant itself looked like. It could have really rude waiters for all he knew.

“Maybe you could show it to me sometime,” James suggested.

Henry’s throat felt suddenly parched.

“I—um. Yes, that… sure,” Henry said, and there was really no need for his voice to be suddenly so high-pitched because James wasn’t asking him out. He probably wasn’t even serious.

“Great,” James grinned at him. “I seriously need to expand my lunch options.” He pulled a pen from his breast pocket and scribbled his phone number on the back of his receipt.

***

Henry put the receipt with James’ number on it inside a book so Oscar couldn’t get at it and decide it was food. Then he spent the next two days taking it out approximately once an hour, running his fingers over the handwriting and wondering how long he should wait. He found it hard to believe that James would actually want to see him again, it seemed so impossible, but he couldn’t think of a reason why James would give him the number otherwise. Unless it was some kind of joke, but James didn’t seem like the type to do that.

Three days after the encounter in the café, Henry finally dared to send a text (there was no chance that he’d have enough courage to call). _Hi. Do you still fancy trying the Greek place?_ Then he realised James didn’t have his number and wouldn’t know who the text was from.

 _This is Henry Knight, by the way,_ he had to add in a new message, and then he groaned in embarrassment and buried his face in a sofa cushion. He’d spent so long on the first text and he mucked up anyway. That really wasn’t a good sign. He shouldn’t expect James to reply.

James did reply, and quite quickly. He suggested lunch the following day, which was far earlier that Henry had dared to expect, and he really doubted he would have his nerves in check so soon, but he agreed – he didn’t want to waste his chance.

Not that there was any logical reason why he should be nervous. It was just a lunch – not a date. And it was just because James hadn’t yet had a chance to make enough friends in the area. No need to get his hopes up, or stress.

Of course, no matter how hard he tried to talk himself out of nervousness, he still had an even more difficult time falling asleep than usual, and he spent the morning rummaging through his wardrobe and trying to decide what to wear. Oscar enjoyed playing in the piles of discarded clothing on the floor, but was otherwise very unhelpful.

He was in front of the restaurant fifteen minutes early, which would have been plenty of time to work himself into a panic, but James arrived only a few minutes after him. He didn’t look any different than the previous times Henry had seen him, but somehow he seemed even more attractive than before, which didn’t help Henry’s situation at all.

When they got inside and Henry took off his jacket, James complimented his shirt. Henry knew his ears went red, as if they weren’t already prominent enough, though of course there was no reason to blush since it was just an off-hand remark and not flirting. Definitely not flirting. (Or was it?)

If James noticed Henry’s nervousness, he didn’t let it show. He talked to him as if Henry’s answers weren’t awkward mumblings and he’d known him for ages, and gradually Henry found himself relaxing. The food was good, so he didn’t have to be embarrassed about his choice of restaurant, and it was very pleasant to be in the company of someone so nice, when he was used to spending his free time with no one but Oscar.

They sat in the restaurant long after their meal was finished, and sometimes their knees touched under the table, which never failed to send an electric jolt through Henry that he tried very hard to ignore. Maybe he and James could be friends, and an ill-advised crush would just ruin it. Unless James had similar feelings, but that was extremely unlikely and Henry really shouldn’t let himself entertain the thought even for a moment.

After they left the restaurant they waked side by side through the streets, and Henry was too busy noticing that they were walking really quite close to each other and James didn’t seem to mind, so he didn’t keep track of where they were going, until James suddenly came to a halt.

“I live here,” he said, indicating a house at the end of a terrace.

“Oh,” Henry said, disappointed, and then he realised that it probably wasn’t very appropriate that he’d followed James home.

“Would you like to come in for a cuppa?” James asked. He was smiling and standing close to Henry and Henry wanted to accept, except what if James had said it just out of politeness and didn’t actually want Henry to bother him anymore? And if he meant it…

Misinterpreting Henry’s hesitation, James said, “Lancelot will be in the garden, he won’t bother you.”

Henry had completely forgotten about the dog, and the reminder didn’t exactly make him feel at ease, but the important thing was that James wouldn’t have said it if he wanted Henry to decline, would he?

“All right,” Henry said finally, and James beamed at him. 

“You won’t regret it, I have the best Rooibos blend you’ve ever tasted,” he said, and he touched Henry’s elbow as he led him towards the door. “Just wait here for a minute and I’ll take care of Lancelot, okay? Sorry,” he added as he unlocked the door and entered, closing it behind himself, as if Henry’s stupid fear was somehow James’ fault. Henry stood awkwardly on the doorstep, listening to the muffled sounds of James talking to the dog, and tried to be calm. The dog wouldn’t be there. And James… Surely it meant something that he’d invited Henry in? 

The door opened.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” James said with a grin, and gestured for Henry to enter. Henry stepped over the threshold with a vague sense of apprehensive anticipation. He didn’t know what James’ intentions were, and he didn’t want to assume and then do something wrong.  
When Henry stepped in the living room, the first thing he saw was the dog. It was in the garden, but it was looking inside through a French window, and it took Henry a split second to realise the glass was there. He started, and then immediately hoped James didn’t notice. He looked around the small living room and hoped that he looked like someone who was completely at ease.

“Sorry about the mess,” James said, hastily putting a pile of newspapers and magazines away from the coffee table. “I didn’t dare to hope you’d want to come in, so I didn’t clean up.”

That didn’t exactly make Henry less nervous, though it certainly went a long way to distract him from the dog. He glanced at James only briefly, aware that his ears were turning red (again). Trying to come up with something to say, he moved towards the terrarium and peered inside.

“So what kind of snake is this?” he asked, hoping that to James it didn’t sound as squeaky as it did in Henry’s head.

“A common kingsnake,” James said, stepping closer to Henry. “They’re completely harmless.”

“I’m not afraid of snakes,” Henry said immediately, because his stupid subconscious clearly wanted to use every opportunity to remind James that there was another species Henry _was_ afraid of.

“I never thought you were,” James said, and something about his voice made Henry look at him, despite the fact that he’d now reached the level of embarrassment where the only safe place to look at was the floor. James had lovely eyes, and somehow looking in them made Henry feel inexplicably calmer. “I think that, in general, I’ve got a much higher opinion of you than you expect me to.”

James was going to kiss him. Henry knew it even before James brought his hand up to cup Henry’s jaw, before his gaze dropped to Henry’s lips. Seconds seemed to stretch forever, and Henry knew that was James giving Henry enough time to pull away if he wanted to – how could Henry want to do something like that? James was going to kiss him.

It was just a brief, soft brush of lips. James kept his hand on Henry’s face, obviously expecting a reaction, but Henry was frozen. He felt incredibly wrong-footed; on the one hand, he wanted this. James. On the other hand, he knew he wasn’t fit to be in any sort of relationship, not to mention that he probably had less experience with relationships than the average sixteen-year-old and he really just didn’t know what to do.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted, which was definitely the stupidest thing anyone had ever said after being kissed. James withdrew his hand immediately and made a step back.

“No, it’s – it’s me who should apologise,” he said, and for the first time Henry saw him looking a little discomposed. “I must have misjudged—”

“No!” Henry reached for James’ hand without consciously deciding to do it, because it was simply unacceptable that James, the best person Henry could have ever hoped to meet, should think himself unwanted. “That’s not what I meant!”

James looked at Henry’s hand that was gripping James’ wrist, which made Henry even more self-conscious, if that was even possible. But James was very good at making Henry feel better, and he moved his hand so that Henry’s was now in his.

“What did you mean, then?” James asked softly.

“Nothing, I – I didn’t mean to say it, I just didn’t know… and I… _definitely_ didn’t mean to ruin things the way I just did.” _Better and better, Henry. Very suave and self-assured._ He had seriously no idea why James wanted to waste time with him when he was clearly hopeless.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” James said, taking Henry’s hand in both of his. Both his voice and his touch were firm but gentle, and Henry felt a little less idiotic thanks to that. He finally dared to look James in the eye. James smiled at him encouragingly, and Henry couldn’t help but give a little smile back. Looking at James made him feel better; why had he ever let himself be overcome with so much embarrassment that he had to look away? He never wanted to look away.

“So, just to be completely sure: you didn’t mind that I kissed you?”

Henry shook his head. He wished he could explain that he didn’t mind at all, that he wanted James to kiss him again and hold more of him than just his hand, but that he wasn’t sure wanting that was a good idea and it made him a little terrified and too confused to think coherently.

James smiled wider. “That’s a relief, because I’d quite like to do it again. But first, I think I promised you some tea, didn’t I?” He squeezed Henry’s hand before letting go of it.

Henry was grateful for being left alone for a moment when James disappeared in the kitchen. He needed a minute to collect his thoughts and stop being ridiculous. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t feel entirely ready to be in a relationship. But he might never feel ready, and he was sure he would never meet anyone else as kind and understanding as James – maybe he should take the plunge. He _wanted to,_ even if it scared him. James didn’t know how messed up Henry was, and he certainly shouldn’t have to deal with Henry’s issues. But if Henry did his best not to burden him with it… He couldn’t keep it a complete secret, but he could make sure it didn’t affect James too much. No one wanted a crazy boyfriend. Next time he would tell James that he didn’t mind the dog ( _Lancelot, call him Lancelot_ ). And he was going to stop behaving like a blushing schoolgirl who got thrown off by a simple kiss. He could do it. Just try to behave like a normal person. Stop freaking out for no reason.

Now he was going to join James in the kitchen and kiss him, because that was what he wanted to do. James had clearly said he wanted that as well, so there was no need to feel awkward about it. Right. So.

James was pouring hot water into mugs when Henry entered the kitchen. He flashed Henry a smile, and Henry could tell that he was pleased Henry had followed him. Henry’s plan not to feel awkward wasn’t working out very well, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. He had gone out at night when he thought there was a monstrous hound waiting to kill him – this was _nothing._

As soon as James had put the kettle down, Henry stepped close to him and pressed a kiss to his lips before he’d managed to change his mind about it. And it might have been a bit rushed and maybe too much pressure and his aim really wasn’t all that great, but he did it, and that was what counted, wasn’t it? It certainly seemed so when James gave him a brilliant smile and slipped his arms around Henry’s waist.

“Now _this_ is certainly what I call a nice surprise,” James said. He was looking at Henry like he was the best thing in the world, and Henry decided he might as well stop trying not to blush since that was never going to happen, and focus instead on trying to figure out what to do with his hands. “I was worried I might have been a little too hasty before.”

“No, I – I was just caught off guard,”

“And I thought I was being so obvious,” James grinned, pulling Henry a little closer. That felt really nice, Henry thought. So nice to feel James’ arms around him. He pressed himself even closer, without thinking about it, without stopping to worry if it was all right. “I must remember to express my appreciation more clearly in the future.”

Henry let out an involuntary nervous giggle. James’ face was very close. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It’ll just make me even more self-conscious.” That was a clear sign that his brain wasn’t working properly anymore, otherwise he would have known to try to hide his shortcomings, not draw attention to them all the time.

“Then maybe I should express myself non-verbally,” James whispered, and Henry could feel his warm breath on his lips just before, closely followed by James’ mouth. And this – yes – this was a proper kiss, not quick and uncertain like the first, nor clumsy like the second. This was _perfect_ , soft pressing movements that made Henry’s heart swell and made him want to cling to James forever, hold on tight and never let go.

When they broke apart James looked like he’d enjoyed the kiss just as much as Henry had and somehow that made Henry feel even better than the kiss itself. He found himself grinning ear to ear, and when James dropped a brief kiss to one of them, it triggered a feeling of self-consciousness so minimal that it didn’t even register among all the endorphins.

**Author's Note:**

> You may recognise James from my Cabin Pressure fic [What You Wish For](http://archiveofourown.org/works/271535). Oscar the kitten appears in [A Nice and Natural Low-stakes Way to Meet People](http://archiveofourown.org/works/392902/chapters/645301), co-written by chess-ka and myself.


End file.
